Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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14 THE SPECTATOR Imprisoned in a Boiler ' BY ALAN M., WEAVER, '09. 46 ET'S Hnish up and go home, said Clyde Carnes, the inspector. It was his duty at the Morgan Plane Company to inspect all the machinery in general. We had Hnished up the engines, valves, gears, and bear- ings, so all remaining was three boilers, which were not in use. .It was my duty to accompany Clyde and take notes. At that time I was sixteen, and yet earned good money on jobs like this. Carnes, the inspector, was a short, heavy- set man, with dark eyes and black hair, and a black mous- tache. He was a good worker and a careful inspector, and also a congenial man to work with, but on account of his heavy build he seldom ventured into dangerous places. This time, however, he decided to go into the last boiler. I said, Clyde, I am thinner than you and yet I can scarcely get in at one of those small doors, It is folly for you to try, when it is of no special beneiit, as I can tell you. Come on, boy, he said, I have not worked around machinery all my life for nothing. Bring me the little ladder and I will show you. All right, said I, knowing it was useless to argue with my superior. Mounting the ladder I had brought, he started in head tirst. His head went in easily, as did his shoulders, but when he got to his waist, which was rather large, he stuck as in a vice. I was standing below, I thought he was taking a rest, but soon he began to kick, and getting as close as possible to the door, I heard him yell something about my pulling him out. It was then I realized his position. He was half in and half out. His clothing held him from coming out, while he was too large to get entirely in. He completely filled the door, cutting off the air and light. At first I was speechless and as weak as a rag. The perspiration came out on me like beads when I thought of Clyde held tight and suffering. As soon as I could collect my senses I started to pull his feet, but with my whole strength I could not move him an inch. Realizing this, I

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THE SPECTATOR 13 Suddenly aware of the bear's presence, Jerry jumped from the log and wheeled about. But he did not, as we had anticipated, make a mad dash for camp. Instead, we saw him grab his gun, level it at theranimal, and a puff of smoke shot forth, followed by the crack, for we were some distance away. No, the bear did not roll over dead, and thus put an end to our joke, besides getting us into a lot of trouble. With a rush it made straight at Jerry, who, apparently too scared to move, stood as if petrined. But it nf ver reached him. At this instant there shot into the clearing another bear. Yet its run was unmistakably that of a dog, and it was then that we realized in horror that it was a real bear with which Jerry had Hrst to deal, and that the newcomer was Tiny. All this flashed thru our minds as the hound in his bearskin sprang at Jerry's assailant. As the two animals came together we saw Jerry make off thru the trees and knew that he was safe, at least. During the battle which ensued we could do nothing but sit in awe and watch. At our distance dog and beast were as one, so that when finally one great form rolled over and lay still we knew not whether. to laugh or cry. What we did do, however, was to cock our guns and rush madly down the hill toward the clearing. lt seemed hours before we got there, but when we did arrive and found Jerry sitting onthe ground with Tiny's head in his lap Qlre had torn off the bearskinj and the bear motionless beside him, we laughed and cried for joy, But when he raised his hand warningly, and, pointing to the dog, motioned us to come to him, our spirits fell, for we knew that something was wrong. As we drew near Tiny raised his head a little, reveal- ing a great gash in his neck from which the blood was slowly oozing. He looked up wistfully at us, then at Jerry, and whined softly. His head fell back limply, his eyes began to glaze, a shudder passed over him, and he lay still. Tiny was dead.

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- THE SPECTATOR 15 ran and called several oilers. We pulled and pushed for nearly half an hour, altho it seemed like days. He never uttered a sound, and I began to fear his death from the pressure on his stomach. Finally he slipped out, pale and limp. We carried him to the air and threw water in his face. When he revived we gave him brandy and soon, with assistance, he was able to walk to a rig. He did not appear for nearly a week, and then he walked slowly and with the aid of a cane. He afterward told me that he suffered terrible pain and had smothering sensations, but outside of being bruised and sore, he was well. l was afraid he had hurt himself internally. It was fortunate that l was along with him, for had he ventured in by himself he would have suffered for some time in this black dungeon. At any rate he always lets me crawl into boilers and dangerous places, while he simply looks from the outside. A Midnight Separation BY ELMER H. SMITH. 66 OOD evening, Nlr. Tom. Howdi, Miss Tabby. These greetings marked the beginning of a midnight escapade on the back fence of Nlr. Sleepless. Miss Tabby was a beautiful animal, having on different occasions taken the beauty prize at the Show of Felines. Her general appearance showed evidence of good treat- ment. Her abundant white and grey fur was soft and fine. Her eyes were clear and brlght, while her mouth and whiskers showed no signs of rat struggles. She held her tail in rigid fashion and moved around with the strut of a peacock. Nlr. Thomas Cat was the direct opposite in appearance of his fair partner. He was very black. Little do we wonder at the many invisible medals he had received from the Night Prowlers on account of his resemblance to the darkness. Tom was the picture of hard luck and